


The Scent that Suits Him the Most

by Ertal77



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dark!Sebastian, M/M, post Book of Circus, slightly dark!Ciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ertal77/pseuds/Ertal77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up of "A Dark Cloud Over his Soul"; it's not necessary to understand this fic, but recommendable.</p><p>Anyway, it follows the manga after the Noah's Circus arc and BEFORE the next arc. The Undertaker is still that bizarre "person" who helps Ciel from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Demoneyes for taking the time to beta this story! It's such an honour!

The next time Ciel Phantonhive reeked of blood and fire was by accident. Sebastian and he were in a warehouse at Limehouse, near the river, where an illegal factory operated by Chinese and Indian immigrants was burning like a torch. The roof was crumpling, threatening to fall down like a pyramid of cards, and the parched timber the walls were made of was spreading the fire very quickly. They didn’t get to know the origin of the fire, but with so many fabrics and old machinery it wasn’t that odd; any careless smoker could have been the source. And with the hundred of scrawny workers living cramped together in the basement, of course many of them went upstairs at night to have a shared smoke.

Ciel watched in horror as the roof started to crumble. A cough fit had him bent for a full minute, and he realised he had to run from the building as fast as he could, or the smoke would asphyxiate him in no time. His eyes were already watering. And where was that damned butler of his?

“Master…”

Ciel turned, covering his mouth and nose with the brim of his jacket.

“There you are! Move, do something! There are still a lot of people in the basement!”

The workers were running and trying to flee from the ruined warehouse, and the earl could hear lots of voices and movement from outside, from the neighbouring houses, so it was obvious that some help was going to arrive in order to prevent the fire to spread. But he didn’t think it was going to arrive soon enough, and the exit door was too narrow to allow all those people to escape in time. Some of them (how many? Forty? Fifty? More?) were going to get trapped by the roof and the fire.

“But master, Lord Vauxhall is escaping. We have to choose, either catching him or helping these people out!”

Ciel didn’t hesitate at all, as Sebastian noticed with delight.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go after him!” the young lord shouted.

They caught the man ten minutes later, trapping him against the black and icy waters of the Thames. Lord Vauxhall’s doings weren’t her Majesty’s business, but the man had challenged the underworld the Phantomhives had sworn to keep quiet and in order; so Ciel wasn’t interested in taking him to jail. Lord Vauxhall (around fifty years old, black beard with grey streaks in it, dressed in a dark grey suit of magnificent quality, as Ciel observed with almost boredom) looked the younger lord in the eye for a moment and he obviously saw all of it, because instead of trying to beg for his life, he simply jumped into the river. Winter was unmerciful at that time of the year, and Ciel considered the chances of the man: he didn’t have many, but they weren’t as low as zero, either.

“Sebastian, make sure he never comes up from the river”.

“Yes, my lord”.

And the dark shadow of the butler was soon lost under the black waters. The earl watched the darkness for a moment, in vain, and suddenly a muffled sound made him turn.

A tall man shrouded in black stepped in the dim circle of light under the nearest gas lamp, his shoes tapping loudly on the deserted street. Ciel held his breath until he saw the man letting his hood slip backwards, and a mane of white long locks started to fall down from its restraint. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but that smile was unmistakeable. As were the dreadful scars around the man’s throat and across his ageless, handsome face.

“Good night, my dear earl!” the man greeted, in a cheerful voice.

“Undertaker”, Ciel whispered. He couldn’t say that he was surprised, because hardly anything surprised him anymore, but he certainly didn’t expect to meet that strange man there.

“You have had a busy night, Ciel Phantomhive”, the Undertaker stated. He stopped for a moment, and he seemed to listen to the distant noises; indeed, Ciel could hear the screams and the frightful creaks of the fire and the building still falling down. “Ah, earl… When you will learn how valuable souls are? Even the tiny, least important soul is sacred, you know?”

The young earl said nothing. He was focussed on the Undertaker (one could never truly rely on him), but he was also thinking about how much time would take Sebastian to end that damned lord so they could come back home. He certainly needed a bath and a change of clothes.

The Undertaker leaned forward, again seeming to listen, and he finally said:

“The Shinigamis are having a packed night, too, thanks to you…”

Ciel frowned.

“I didn’t start the fire.”

“You didn’t help to avoid it either. And you have something that could have saved a lot of lives… though you decided against it.”

He meant Sebastian, of course, and that thought made Ciel feel uncomfortable. He knew the Undertaker suspected Sebastian’s nature, of course, but he didn’t like to talk about it with him. And he didn’t like that someone tried to make him feel guilty.

“I see that you don’t value even your own soul, earl, as you are making it head to hell… Tst, tst, tst… What a naughty boy. So young but yet so evil”.

Ciel turned to look again at the river, disgusted.

“It’s not as if my soul had any chance of going to heaven, either way”, he whispered.

He didn’t say it for the Undertaker, but for himself. But he heard nevertheless, because suddenly the man was just behind him, mere inches away, and his breath caressed the boy’s ear when he answered:

“I know you don’t expect heaven or hell… but there are other ways, young earl…”

Ciel turned his head slightly, shocked. He could see now the yellowish eyes of the tall man, and that wide grin, and he felt sick. What was the Undertaker talking about? What other ways? For him, there was just one: the Great Void, the nothingness that would greet him once Sebastian ate his soul. There was nothing else!

The man’s eyes looked down; Ciel followed his gaze and found himself staring at an object on the Undertaker’s hand. It was a silver chain, and crimped along it there were a number of lockets, the kind that usually contained a hair lock of someone dear who had passed away. The Undertaker placed the chain with the lockets on Ciel’s hands. Astonished, the boy watched carefully the lockets and read the dates and initials inscribed in the delicate objects. Some of them dated back to three hundred years ago, but one was just twenty years old. He didn’t recognise any of the initials, but made an effort of recording them on his mind for later study.

“This is my way out, Ciel Phantomhive…” The Undertaker whispered softly, leaning until he was touching the young earl’s ear with his lips; Ciel was too shocked to move away. “The only one I can offer. Think of it.” And then his lips went still down and Ciel felt them dragging along his jaw. Was that… a kiss… of sorts? Before he could react besides gasping, the strange man straightened up and added: “Your butler is coming back, so I’ll have my leave now. It was a pleasure talking to you, earl, as always.”

And he retrieved his silver chain and moved away so fast that Ciel’s eyes could barely follow him; the man walked fast and disappeared among the shadows in the time Ciel needed to turn towards him. He was left there, alone, feeling confused and slightly angry, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at the comforting sight of Sebastian, the reliable Sebastian, who looked at him with a pleased smile on his face.

“The deed is done, young master. It’s past your bedtime, if I’m allowed to say it.”

“Let’s go, then.”

The demon took the boy between his arms and jumped high, towards the sky. He would fly to the Phantomhive Manor now that it was dark night and the few awake people were too busy trying to smother the fire and tending the injured. He felt his master twitching in his arms, looking for a comfortable position until he found it, and smiled while he inhaled, deeply, the fragrance of his charge. Blood and fire. YES.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Some days later, the young earl was sitting down behind his desk, frowning at a piece of paper in front of him. The offending paper was a list of the initials and dates he remembered from the Undertaker string of lockets. He had written them down as soon as he came back home that night, and had been able to remember six of the seven lockets’ details. After that, he ordered Sebastian to obtain a list of the dead people who matched those initials and dates of death. Efficient as ever, the long register had been on Ciel’s desk the next day.

The earl had read those names again and again, looking for something unusual, something out of the ordinary that stood out and gave him some kind of clue. What did the Undertaker mean that night?

And now that he had had the time to study the list of names, he had found the one that stood out, but he was still clueless.

_Claudia Phantomhive. Died at 36 years old. 13 th July 1866._

He wasn’t born yet, when she died. But he knew the name, of course. His grandmother. There was a small painting of her somewhere in the manor, as well as a daguerreotype of her as a bride, beside her groom, both of them with wide smiles and slicked hair.

So… Why would the Undertaker have her grandmother’s locket? And why would he let Ciel know? What was the meaning of that? Frustrated, Ciel sighed and leaned back on his huge armchair. He rang the servant’s bell.

“Yes, young master?” Sebastian was there in a moment, quicker than any other servant could never be.

“Prepare the carriage. I’m going downtown.”

“What for, may I ask?”

Ciel looked at his butler, the pleasant smile plastered on his handsome features, as always, and was tempted to tell him. After all, he always told him everything. But in the end he just said:

“I’m going to pay a visit to the Undertaker.”

And that was all his explanation.

They arrived to the Undertaker’s shop at sunset. Ciel knew the man would still be there, even after closing time, and he wondered if the man actually lived there in the shop, in a backroom or upstairs perhaps. He had never asked. In fact, he realised how little he knew about the strange man. He didn’t even know his real name, only that odd nickname that suited him so well, although it described his job more than his person.

“Sebastian, wait in the carriage.”

“Master?” The butler was clearly disappointed; it was almost unheard of them to not visit the Undertaker together.

“It’s an order, Sebastian. Don’t move from the carriage.”

The demon was too shocked to add his usual ‘ _yes, my lord_ ’, and the earl climbed down the coach with a satisfied smile on his face.

The store was dark, dimly lit by some candles scattered on different surfaces, and the young man had to stand inside the doorstep until his sight grew accustomed to the gloom. The contents of the shop didn’t scare him at all (coffins and caskets of all sizes, basically), and he wondered if he had ever been scared of them. When was the first time he came to the shop? Wasn’t it when his predecessor was still alive? He couldn’t remember.

A dark shape suddenly moved in the shadows, making him gasp, but he of course knew it was the owner himself, appearing from wherever he rested when he wasn’t working. A wide and lazy smile spread across his face; again, Ciel couldn’t see those yellowish eyes, hidden under white bangs, but he imagined the mischievous glint of amusement in them.

“Good evening, my dear earl!” the man greeted with a flourish. “Please, sit down and I would bring you a tea and a biscuit. I see you have left your loyal guardian outside, uh?”

Ciel sat down on a casket, as there was no chair at sight. The odd man came back almost immediately with a cup of decent tea and a plate of hard bone-shaped biscuits. The earl dipped a biscuit into his tea, knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat it otherwise, and wondered if the man had prepared the tea just minutes ago, as it seemed. Did he know he was coming to visit? He didn’t want to ask more than necessary.

“I hope the reason of your visit”, the Undertaker started, “is that you have already decided on… our question.”

Ciel put the cup and saucer aside, on a low table, and stared at the man.

“I lack a great amount of details before I can make my mind. As for now, the only thing I know for sure is that you own a hair locket that belonged to my grandmother; that’s all.”

The man’s smile grew still wider, if possible. His teeth were incredibly white and perfect.

“I’m sure someone as intelligent as the young earl has come to some conclusions in front of that fact…”

Ciel sighed and crossed his legs, annoyed.

“You are overestimating me, then.”

The man came closer to the boy, leaning over until their heads were levelled, and then Ciel could see his eyes: strange, alluring, mesmerising. And yes, as mischievous as Ciel remembered them.

“Perhaps I was wrong the entire time, and it was that butler of yours who is the brain behind your doings, young earl?” the man sang, mockingly. But he straightened up and went to pour two cups of tea more. “Let’s see, Phantomhive… What do you think those lockets represent?”

Ciel gulped and fixed his eyes on the floor. He answered reluctantly in a whisper.

“They are souls.”

“Exactly!” The Undertaker passed him a new cup of tea and pretended to toast with his own cup. “That’s my clever boy! Those seven lockets are souls. MY souls, to be precise.”

Ciel felt his jaw drop. His? How on earth…? The Undertaker laughed and sat in front of him. The man sipped his tea and placed the cup on a side table. He pulled back his hair from his forehead, still smiling, so Ciel could see his features in full. He was attractive in a way, odd in another; it was impossible to guess his age, because he didn’t have any wrinkle, not even around his ever present smile, but that white hair made him appear aged. And those terrible scars, which Ciel remembered that have seemed terrifying to him at first, took away some of his beauty, after all, tipping the scale towards “odd looking”.

“I bet you have seen these before, am I right? The kind of places and situations that butler of you must be taking a kid like you… tst, tst…”

And he signalled a pile of books placed on the floor, close to the casket Ciel was sitting on. The boy reached out, curious, and grabbed the first one. It didn’t have a title on the cover, just some golden initial on the spine: C. T. But as soon as the young earl opened it, a yellow bright light surged from the pages, and Ciel almost dropped it in shock. When the book was fully open, something familiar appeared: images in the air, glowing in the dark room, faces and places in black and white, framed and cut in a long string of images that went on and on… And yes, Ciel had seen that before: it was a cinematic record. He had never seen it shaped like a book, though, and how could the Undertaker had those cinematic records? Only the shinigamis could pick them up and preserve them… wherever it was. Perhaps the Undertaker had stolen them. That thought made the man go up some places in the earl’s mental scale: he knew of the shinigamis, knew about the cinematic records (more than Ciel himself) and he even know how to grab them! But what for? And, more important, why was his grandmother’s one in his possession?

The Undertaker laughed again, delighted.

“Oh, my dear earl, if you could see your face right now! So expressive! All your thoughts passing through your eyes. Aaaah, isn’t it cute, to be so young?”

Ciel straightened, annoyed as he always got when someone mentioned his age.

“Will you explain, or do I have to guess again? What are those books for? Have you stolen them from the shinigami?”

The man laughed again, but there was nothing nice about his laugh this time, and Ciel feared that he had offended the Undertaker. And that wouldn’t do.

“Why would I steal them,” the man said, sharp, “when I can own them legally? Yesssssss, my dear boy, they are mine by right… I was a shinigami, long time ago, one of the most powerful ones ever existed, if I can be so bold to say it myself, and I still retain some privileges…”

 _That would definitely explain some things…_ , Ciel thought, doing his best at keeping a straight, poker face.

“One of them”, the smiling man continued, “is keeping a soul after the living person dies. Of course I can only do that occasionally, or it would be a mess in the shinigamis inner records… Can you imagine William T. Spears finding out that A LOT of cinematic records are missing from the archive?” The Undertaker started to giggle, closing his eyes and leaning back, until a drop of drool went down his chin. He wiped it with his long sleeve and tried to go back to the “business like” tone. “Anyway, as I was saying, I only keep a soul when is attached to a person who is very special to me.”

A shudder went down Ciel’s spine at those words. He definitely didn’t want to go there.

“And was my grandmother a special person for you?”

The man looked serious for once.

“Yes. My dear Claudia. She had to go too soon. Your father, my dear young earl, was very special to me as well, but he had his own plans for his future and refused my offer. And then, there’s you…”

His lazy wide smile spread again, and Ciel could see again those yellow eyes glinting under his white locks. He gulped, feeling uneasy.

“What’s with me?”

He tried to sound scornful and haughty, but he felt that he ought to have Sebastian by his side right then; he had been a bit stupid to leave him outside.

“You? You are another Phantomhive who is going to leave this world too soon. And besides, your soul is not going to achieve heaven, or go damned to hell, because it will be just a meal for that demon of yours…”

 _So he knew!_ Ciel clenched his jaw and raised his hand to his eye, the eye with the contract mark. The Undertaker laughed again and moved aside his long clothes, showing Ciel something long and metallic and with a skull. He needed a long moment to realise what was the object, because he had never seen any with that shape. But a former shinigami, one with lasting privileges? Then he must have a death scythe!

“You don’t need to call him, earl. And this scythe beats any demon, even the strongest one.”

Ciel smiled with pride, as he always did when they talked about Sebastian. A shinigami, stronger than Sebastian? That had to be a joke…

“I’m not a common shinigami, earl… Want to make him come in and see, eh? Wanna bet?”

Something in the man’s amused eyes told him that would be a very bad idea. He shook his head.

“Good! Now we are talking!” The man stood up and went to sit close to Ciel, on the same casket as him, in fact, and passed his arm over the boy’s shoulders. He whispered in his ear: “These souls of mine are well kept, I assure you… They are _happy_. They feel loved and in peace. Would you like that? Eh?”

The boy was trembling, his hands closed around the fabric of his trousers.

“I can’t hear you, young earl…”

“I… I don’t know! How do I do it, anyway?”

“Oh, that’s very simple. You just have to call my name when you are dying, before your demon claims your soul”. And he whispered a long name very, very quietly, touching with his lips the shell of Ciel’s ear. The earl held his breath, feeling the man’s closeness and his warmth, so different from Sebastian, exciting and exhilarating instead of reassuring like his butler’s. He repeated the name in his mouth, in silence. The Undertaker stared at him, only inches away, and then kissed his cheek and sat up, putting some distance again between them. Ciel thought that was a good moment to put an end to the conversation, and stood up.

“I’ll take my leave now, Undertaker. I’ll consider carefully your offer. Thank you very much.”

The Undertaker stood up as well and led the way to the front door. They both said goodbye, and the man greeted Sebastian with his hand; the butler was inside the carriage, as Ciel had ordered. When the earl sat inside his comfortable coach again, he closed his eyes and let Sebastian give the order to the coachman.

“Is everything alright, my lord?”

Ciel opened his eyes again. His butler was looking at him with concern in his dark beautiful eyes. Could demons feel concern? If they couldn’t, Sebastian was a master of acting, Ciel thought. He leaned towards the demon, until his forehead touched Sebastian’s shoulder, and the butler took the hint and passed his arm around his master’s shoulders, supporting him. He surely looked tired and would be sleeping way before they arrived to the manor. Ciel breathed in his butler’s scent: soap, cleanliness, and something spicy, clove perhaps? He realised those were the scents he linked to warmth, security and home now, thanks to Sebastian.

“Yes, Sebastian, just take me home.”


	3. Chapter 3

Some months passed, and Ciel’s birthday came and went. He celebrated it in a bitter mood. _My last birthday_ , he thought, trying to hide how upset he was during the party. _Why would I want to celebrate it?_ Soon afterwards Christmas arrived, with more dinners and guests and annoying celebrations in general. Although being already fourteen, Ciel didn’t feel older, and noticing that Lizzy was still taller than before, and that her body was now completely woman shaped, didn’t help him to feel any better. Lizzy was going to be presented in the court that very spring, and she would take part in the next social season, the girl told him with excitement. The boy felt that all of that had nothing to do with him. He didn’t want any part of the parties, fox hunting or countryside weekends, thank you very much. His London wasn’t the same as Lizzy’s or as the rest of the British noble teenagers’, either. His city was dark, damp, full of narrow alleys and workhouses and harbour taverns, with dirty water puddles glowing under the gaslights. Everybody else could have their bright shopping malls, their nice and airy townhouses and their theatres: all of that meant nothing to him.

But he wouldn’t say that to Lizzy, of course. He smiled at her, played chess, rode his horse and strolled together through his garden, but all the while he felt like an outsider.

It was only in the evenings when he became alive, going out into the darkness, followed by his loyal shadow. As blood dripped down his fingers once again, he thought of Lizzy and the kind of life he was supposed to live with her, and he felt so remote and lonely that it almost hurt. Almost.

“It’s done”.

Ciel nodded. It was midwinter, and the night was windy and wet. He huddled in his wool coat, rubbing his cheeks against the soft fur of the hood’s brim, trying to warm them with little luck. He looked at his feet, at the blood that was starting to pool under the corpses of the two thugs, and moved aside before his shoes stained.

“Let’s go home, Sebastian.”

His butler bowed and came closer, grinning. Ciel avoided his eyes while the demon picked him up and jumped, high up until he reached the rooftops, and started to move really fast, jumping from roof to roof and from balcony to balcony. He closed his eyes and held onto Sebastian’s neck with all his strength. _They were the last ones. Tonight is when everything finishes_ , he thought. And he was truly surprised at finding a note of panic in his own thoughts.

  

* * *

 

Selfishly, he made Sebastian prepare him a hot bath and a late supper when they arrived to his London townhouse. He thought the demon might refuse: he had already fulfilled his part of the bargain, after all _. He is not my butler any more_. Ciel shuddered at the thought.

“I would like a cup of hot milk”, he ordered then, petulant.

He was trying to buy himself more time. He knew. And what was worse, he knew Sebastian knew. The thought made him cringe, and he decided that the time to let the farce go had arrived.

Sebastian brought him the milk and stayed in front of him, standing in silence, with a face that betrayed nothing. He cleared his throat.

“Young master…”

Ciel raised his hand, still not daring to look at him.

“I think that title is outdated now… demon.”

And he finally glanced up. Sebastian stood in front of the fireplace, his face dyed in red from the fire. Blood red. A chill ran up Ciel’s spine as he watched his butler starting to smile, first a tiny, almost shy smile, and then a big grin that reached his maroon eyes.

“The game is up, Ciel Phantomhive”, Sebastian said with a soft, caressing voice. “You have dismantled all the businesses that saw your family as a menace: organised crime, rival noble families, oriental trade guilds, even some royal family members… Everyone remotely connected to your parents’ death is now keeping them company in the afterlife. No one will trade with children in this city for a good while, either.” He made a pause for effect. “There’s no one else left. It’s over.”

“I know.”

The demon advanced one step towards Ciel; the boy felt a cold and disgusting sweat on the palm of his hands. He wiped them on his trousers and avoided again Sebastian’s eyes. The velvety voice came nearer, though, kind and inviting. Tempting.

“Perchance the young earl would like some additional time to say his farewells...”

Ciel looked him in the eye again.

“No.” And there was only resolution in his voice. _This is not the time to waver. I gave my word, and a Phantomhive keeps his word._ “I’m more than ready.”

Sebastian chuckled quietly.

“A liar until the end”, he whispered.

Ciel raised his chin, clutching to the last threads of his pride.

“I’m not a liar”, he said, as calmly as he could.

What was wrong? He had made a covenant, and he had to keep his word. If he wasn’t able to do it, he could well renounce to his Phantomhive surname. _Noblesse oblige_. And he was a Phantomhive through and through, his pride and his honour were his banners. But as Sebastian kept coming nearer, smiling, until Ciel could feel his breath on his own face, he didn’t felt honourable or proud: he felt like a fourteen years old boy, weak and scared.

His lips started to move from their own accord. The demon raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

“What have you just said, young Master?”

“I... Nothing. I don’t know!”

“Could you please repeat it, sir? It was a very long word. Was it a name? For me?”

Before Ciel could do little more than grimace, the window shutters opened and the night freeze came in the room. Sebastian, loyal to his long term occupation, rushed to close them, but something made him stop in his tracks. Ciel stood up, surprised, but the loud and long laugh that reached his ears petrified him.

“Oh, you don’t know, you say, kid? Tstch. You would expect more decision from a lord Phantomhive.”

It was him. He had come. _Have I called him? That word...I didn’t realise I was calling him. But he’s here._ And he couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or afraid. What he had offered was better than the Great Void, right? It seemed so. _But what do I know, what if it doesn’t feel like anything once you are dead? Then no matter if I’m devoured by Sebastian or I stay with the Undertaker, it would be the same. No, it would be worse: a death without honour!_

Sebastian watched him closely while his thoughts ran through his mind. Ciel knew the demon could read him like an open book, but he didn’t have the time to conceal his doubts then: his time had run out.

The Undertaker entered the room through the window and stood tall, his long hair and his cloak tails shrouding him, dancing in the cold nightly air. Despite his words, he was smiling widely, like always, and leaned over a familiar object. Ciel could see Sebastian looking at the skeleton pieces that formed the object and tying loose ends.

“So you are a shinigami after all...” Sebastian smiled, although it wasn’t a nice smile at all. “You shinigamis seem to be everywhere, following every step of my master. Well, I don’t know what errand brings you here, but we are a little busy right now, and besides my lord is tired.”

The Undertaker’s grin grew still more, giving him a Cheshire cat’s look.

“My errand, dear demon, is this child here. I have come to take him away.”

Sebastian's fake smile fell. He turned to look at Ciel accusingly.

“Did you call him, sir?”

The boy nodded, unsure. Sebastian ignored the shinigami and addressed Ciel, his anger clearly stirring up.

“You have made some deal with him, I sense... Is it that, young master?” Ciel nodded again, feeling very small. “How could you! What did he offer to you? Hold on, I don’t want to know. How did you accept any deal with him before hearing first what I had to offer to you?”

The boy cringed, afraid of the demon’s ire, and took a moment to process the words directed at him.

“...What… you had to offer?”

Sebastian’s face was a show of emotions: disappointment and hurt feelings seemed to be the most obvious ones. But he was a good actor after all. _Don’t rely on him; he will do whatever he can to eat your soul at once_ , Ciel thought.

“Do you really think I could go and eat you after all these years together, young master?”

“Don’t call me that again”, Ciel mumbled.

Behind Sebastian, the ignored shinigami laughed.

“What a turn of events, my, my! But the young earl here has a deal with me, you can keep your tricky offers for yourself, demon!”

“Wait”. Ciel’s voice was again his own, strong and proud. “I still have to hear him”. He raised his chin and faced the dark shape of his ex-butler. “You, demon. Speak now, and do it clearly. I will know if you try to trick me; I’m not a _child_ any more.”

Sebastian smiled, and the look of his eyes was so warm and sweet that Ciel’s determination wavered a bit.

“Young master… Ciel. Sit down, if you please”. The young earl did it, while the Undertaker, ignored again but still grinning, leaned back on the window sill to enjoy the scene. “You know I have served you these four years loyally, and that the reason behind was my ultimate payment: having the honour of devouring your soul.” He smiled wickedly, looking directly at the boy’s eyes, and Ciel couldn’t help to shiver again. “And until a few months ago, I would have been very happy with that reward.”

“What happened then?” asked the Undertaker.

Sebastian turned to answer him; Ciel felt relieved. Somehow, now that they were so close to the end, the demon’s intensity seemed to have grown, and the look of those reddish eyes fixed on him was almost unbearable.

“Some months ago I realised there was something that I desired more than my master’s soul.” He turned to stare at the fireplace then, and his eyes acquired a dreamy and faraway look. “In all these centuries of my life as a demon, I had never noticed how lonely I was. Being on my own was my nature; it’s not like that for every demon, but I thought I was happy that way, not having to depend on anyone, being free to do whatever I wished. Until it ceased to make me happy”. Sebastian look at Ciel, and the young earl’s heart leaped: Sebastian seemed so sad and… vulnerable. _Is he acting again? How I am supposed to know?_ , Ciel thought, guarded. “Yes, Ciel. Some time ago, I realised I felt _happy_ going along with you in your quest, and that eating your soul in the end, as satisfying as it would surely be… would also result in the end of our time together.”

“And what about it?” the boy asked with a weak voice.

“I have come to think that said outcome would be less desirable than being your partner.”

The Undertaker laughed loudly, interrupting the scene; both Sebastian and Ciel turned to look at him, annoyed.

“Excuse me, excuse me!” the tall man exclaimed, waving his hands in excitement. “Please don’t mind me and follow your explanation! Although I can see where this is going already!”

 _That’s great, because I can’t see it at all_ , Ciel thought, frowning. _What if he doesn’t want to eat me now? We have a covenant! And he won’t stay here as my butler forever, I can’t believe that._

“Yes, please, Sebastian, keep explaining”, he said. “I can’t see what is for you to do.”

The demon smiled, and luckily it was his usual smile, the one Ciel had grown fond of, the one in which he trusted.

“Here is my offer, Ciel. Well, my counteroffer”. He glanced sideways to the Undertaker, who seemed to be enjoying himself greatly. “I can turn you into a demon and offer you an almost eternal life.”

The shinigami applauded.

“Bravo! Oh, I’m so happy when my guessing ended up being right!”

Ciel studied his butler’s face, confused.

“Is that possible? Do you have that power?”

“In fact, the full ceremony needs a certain… payment in the form of blood”, Sebastian explained, with a tiny crooked smile. “But I have made sure you paid that… in these last months.”

Ciel’s mind went back to a certain amount of evening activity of late. He didn’t let his thoughts go that way.

“…Right. What else is needed?”

“So you are agreeing?” Sebastian asked with evident joy.

“Of course he is!” the Undertaker answered for him. “He is so eager that he is ignoring the main detail of the pact.”

Ciel felt suspicious again.

“And what is that?”

Sebastian only sighed, his smile gone.

“Tell him, demon…” the shinigami urged. “Tell him he will have to do make the deal _with you_ , so unlike the demons created originally as such, he would be forever attached to you. But of course, that was your goal from the beginning, eeeeh? Having this cute and petulant child as your _servant_.”

“He won’t be my servant!”

“But it’s true that he will be bound to you by unbreakable ties.”

Ciel watched Sebastian closely until he finally answered.

“…Yes.”

The demon seemed to study the fire for a long time that felt like forever, the red tongues dancing and trying to reach him, dying his face of blood red and gold. Finally, Ciel sighed and stood up. He stepped forward close to his former butler and said, clearly and loud.

“I accept.”

Sebastian raised his head and turned, surprised.

“I said: what else is needed?” Ciel added. “You know perfectly well that I hate to repeat myself.”

“A… contract. And a witness. He will make do.” Sebastian glanced at the Undertaker, and the tall man nodded. “That’s all”.

“Do whatever you have to do, and do it quickly”, Ciel ordered. After a moment of hesitation, he added: “Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“Although I will be bonded to you, I won’t be accepting your orders. Keep that in mind, demon: I am not, and won’t be, your servant.”

Sebastian smiled again.

“Of course not, Ciel. Of course not.”

The new covenant didn’t need many arrangements. The young earl felt his blood burn when the Undertaker and Sebastian touched the bare skin of his chest at the same time, near the spot where his heart pumped madly, and then, for a moment, he felt his heartbeats stop and his blood froze… But it must have been an illusion, because afterwards he felt almost like his usual self again. Just a little dizzy, that was all. And he was alive, that was for sure. But perhaps he had lost consciousness for some moments, because when he could focus on his surroundings again, the Undertaker was gone and he was wearing different clothes. Travelling clothes. Clean, comfortable and warm. The dizziness was passing already and he felt quite alright.

“Hurry up, Ciel, you must write your orders for the servants. You don’t want to make them worry about you, do you?”

Ciel shook his head. The notepaper with the Phantomhive crest letterhead was already on his desk, ready to be written. He sat down and took his favourite pen. He started to write his commands without thinking.

“How much time are we going to be abroad?”

Sebastian was readying two suitcases, focused on his task, and hummed:

“Oh, I don’t know… But it could be a long time.”

Ciel wrote additional instructions with that in mind.

“I think I should also write a letter to Lizzy”, he thought aloud, chewing the base of his pen. “Yes, I’ll do that. Give me ten minutes more, Sebastian, and I will be ready.”

The humming voice of his former butler arrived from the attached dressing room, and it was a happy voice.

“A long, long time…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
